When one brother falls, Another must rise
by thegirlwhocan
Summary: Set straight after 3x11, my version of the finale. Stiles kicking Darach ass. Scott reaching his true alpha status. The collision of the Hale/McCall and Alpha packs. Badass ensues. Features character death & violence. Split into two parts because of length.
1. The fall

**A/N: This is the first time I've written for Teen Wolf, so dont judge me too harshly! this was originally one really, really, really, long one shot, but I decided to split it into two parts instead. Hope you enjoy - please review/fave if you do :) **

**All rights to to MTV and the teen wolf producers etc, none of the characters are my own yada yada yada ~ **

* * *

**Part 1: **'When one brother falls'

When they emerged from the ice tank, each of the surrogate sacrifices felt something different.

Allison felt numb: the cold had turned every fibre of her body to aching, biting numbness and seeped into her lungs, the cold rooted there permanently.

Scott felt hope: a fleeting feeling quickly disappeared by the knowledge of what was next to come – but for that first second, he felt hope – he knew where his mother could be found.

Stiles was different to the others, for when he was submerged, he did it with no hope, or anger, but with fear. When he resurfaced, he took a breath, but did not open his eyes immediately. When he did, his eyes were dark.

Shivering, Allison jumped out the bath with surprising speed, gracefully accepting the towel Isaac held out for her and attempting to rub some feeling back into her limbs before changing into the dry clothes waiting in the other room. She did not meet Scott's eyes as she went. The werewolf reacted slower, taking his time to get out of the tub and sitting on the edge with the towel around his shoulders before he spoke to his best friend, who remained sitting in the icy clutches, "We know where the Nemeton is."

Stiles nodded, "so what do we do now?" He looked up to his friend for answers, because despite Scott's temporary change of allegiance, Stiles would always look to Scott and follow him. Anywhere.

"We find our parents," Scott answered dumbly, and when Stiles rolled his eyes, he explained, "Whatever happens, it's all got to end there. Where it started for Ms. Blake. I'll get the alpha pack there," everybody in the room stiffened, but the young boy's tone remained determined, "you get Derek, and then get our parents and Allison out of there – we'll fight her to distract her."

"You can't beat her," Isaac spoke up, looking at Scott in confused worry, "even if you get your parents out – she could kill you!"

"That's a risk we've got to take"

"Then I'll go with you," Isaac said simply, "the more wolves the better, right?" Scott looked like he might argue, but eventually nodded gratefully. He got to his feet, shuffling to his clothes before throwing a dry hoodie over his wet shirt, feeling immediately better.

"Get Derek," Stiles said bitterly, drawing their attention, and Scott realized he hadn't yet moved. "This is his fight too, and he can sure as hell get his ass there to help." He tossed Isaac his phone from beside the tank, and the other boy held it nervously.

Isaac nodded once, "I'll talk to him and Peter, but I don't know whether they'll come," he hesitated, "I might have yelled at him a bit when we last spoke."

"Try anyway," Scott reassured him, taking a last sweeping look around the room before he started to leave. He had to believe Derek would see sense and help. Without every one of them, they wouldn't stand a chance. At the door, he paused, twisting back, "You should get going." He'd meant it for Stiles, who was still motionless, but Isaac misinterpreted it and made for the door.

Meeting Stiles gaze, Scott saw a truth, a determination that wasn't there before. It didn't fit him well. But it was too late – there wasn't enough time to worry about the effects of their ice dunk now. He and Isaac left together before parting ways outside the animal clinic.

* * *

Back inside, Deaton studied the last remaining 'sacrifice' with as much intensity as Scott had. Stiles was still sitting in the freezing bath, as if mulling things over in his mind. As predicted, Lydia eventually spoke and pulled him back, "As much as that looks like fun," she eyed the water warily, "I think you should get out now." He responded instantly if mechanically, getting to his feet in the tank and standing dripping. Rejecting the offered towel, he padded from the room to change silently.

"What's wrong with him?" Lydia asked as soon as he left.

"I don't know"

Changed and dry, Allison and Stiles emerged back into the waiting room together, their pale faces tinged with colour again and looking back to normal. Stiles even smiled crookedly at Lydia, mumbling an apology as he entered. "We have to get there before the packs do," Allison began the conversation, "if the alpha pack gets there first and attacks Jennifer, she won't hesitate to kill them – then no one can stop her."

"We have to get them out first" Stiles finished with a nod.

"What is she kills _us_? The Pack's stand a better chance against her than we do" Lydia started.

"-But our parents don't" Stiles and Allison caught the others gaze and a silent agreement passed between them – they'd died once for their parents, and would do it again if it came down to it.

"We have to try" Allison stated, moving as one, the three headed for the door. The girls left first, having the door held open for them by Stiles, he paused before he too followed, turning to Deaton. A knowing look shared, as they had been planning something different for weeks now, he muttered the words "if not, there's always plan B." It was quiet enough so that only Deaton heard. The boy didn't meet his eyes.

Once they were gone, the vet sighed, knowing that Plan B was not a good thing. Scott would be furious with them both if it came down to that. And he would have to shoulder the blame alone.

* * *

"Derek" Isaac burst through the doors, startling all three Hales inside. Cora, now conscious, leant against the sofa tiredly, looking worn out. A thin layer of sweat still clung to her skin. The ex-alpha looked up irritably, but Peter sensed the panicked tone and was instantly serious. "What is it?" he asked.

"We know where Jennifer is – Scott and the alphas are going after them"

"What? How?" Derek demanded, on his feet in a heartbeat. Despite everything, he still cared a great deal about Scott's safety.

"There's no time – Stiles and Allison are going to try and save their parents while the pack distracts the Darach, but we need your help" Isaac looked pleadingly towards him, shaking slightly.

Derek looked down at Cora, who tried to get to her feet, "I want to help" she said.

"No! Definitely not, you're in no shape for a fight" Derek protested, and she reluctantly slid back to her seat, weak at the knee's. Fiery eyed, she stared him down.

"Fine, but don't stay here on my behalf. You healed me, Derek. I'm okay. But you have to go" there was no jealousy or bitterness in her voice. Her brother had to leave her. She knew that, and accepted it. "Go help them."

For a moment, Derek looked trapped, and confused, and vaguely human, causing Isaac to regret his earlier anger. But the moment passed, and his usual armour was thrown back up, making his face unreadable as Derek turned back to his former Beta, "let's go."

To everyone's surprise, Peter followed without complaint, and they raced towards the Nemeton.

* * *

Plan A was to sneak in undetected and snatch their parents before things got ugly. The Jeep creaked and moaned under the speed as the three teenagers talked over their plan on the way to the forest in which the Nemeton rested. Stiles' hands gripped the wheel harder than usual, his knuckles white, but nobody noticed.

He was glad. This time, he felt confident facing the Darach. This time, he had a Plan B; the best part was the only person it could possibly hurt was himself. That didn't matter though. As long as his father and his friends were safe.

Plan B was his secret. The last hope of a desperate man.

As they skidded to a stop, doors open before they had even fully halted, Stiles prayed that Plan B wouldn't be necessary. But he knew he wouldn't hesitate a second to do it.

* * *

The three guardians were tied to trees in the clearing surrounding the Nemeton. Jennifer had moved them that morning, anticipating that today was the right time. They were coming, and she was ready.

Side by side, the parents caught each others gaze, thinking it was their time to go, and that their children were about to be made orphans at the hands of a mad woman. They were wrong.

The weather, defiant of the darkness, was bright. In the sun, the parents bones were warmed after days of locked up that that root cellar, dingy and dirty and dismal. It was as if they were being put on display, out in the open; the final act of a murderous show put on by the less than angelic English teacher. It was time for the curtain call.

Lydia, Allison, and Stiles approached as quietly as they could, creeping through the leaves and bushes to get close enough for a view of the infamous Nemeton tree stump. The young huntress had her bow readied, arrow notched. She was sure that if Ms. Blake appeared now, she'd shoot her down without a seconds thought to taking a life. Before their ice bath, such a thought would have made her shudder, but now she only felt calm, absolute.

Perhaps that was the darkness Deaton had warned them of. Her hands no longer shook.

The clearing came into view, the stump in the centre white and mesmerising, as if drawing them all to it. A strange feeling passed over her, and she met her friend's eyes. They felt it too. A pull: a noose around their necks connecting them all to that tree. She didn't like it one bit, but her concentration was lured away by the sight of the trees across from them, on the other side of the stump.

"Dad" she breathed, making to run to the hostages bound there, but a hand grabbed her arm, restraining her.

"It's too easy," Lydia's wide eyes met her own, scanning the clearing thoughtfully, "why would she just leave them like that, for us all to see? She _wants_ us to go to them." Her words made sense, Lydia's sharp and tactical mind pulling the pieces together, but not quite grasping the entire picture yet. Allison glanced over to her dad, and saw his face was bloody. Damn the consequences, she had to get to him.

Sprinting across the clearing, Allison notched her arrow before letting it fly towards the trees. Meeting its mark, it severed the rope holding her father aloft, and Mr. Argent fell to his knees in the dirt. Voices yelled behind her, but Allison did not stop until she reached her father side. Already having loosened most of the knots, the girl deftly pulled her pocket knife to cut the rest. "What were you thinking?" her father hissed at her, and her face fell.

"I- I just"

"It doesn't matter now," Chris argent growled, seething at himself for getting into the situation in the first place, "you have to run." They both got unsteadily to their feet, as other footsteps echoed across the clearing. Lydia was about in the middle of it when their run was interrupted.

"So nice of you to pop in to see me" There she was: Jennifer Blake, the Darach, standing atop the Nemeton's stump and gazing down at them disdainfully. "Miss Martin, I thought you were smarter than this" she chided, taking pleasure in their panic. Lydia stood frozen, he hand subconsciously making its way to her throat, choked.

Faster than humanly possible, Ms. Blake zapped across the clearing to the trembling girl, and had just raised a hand to strike her when something tackled her, sending her sprawling. Lydia, still frozen, was pulled away from the tussle by Stiles, who wrapped a protective arm around her as Isaac and Peter emerged from the trees, joining Derek – the original tackler – in holding off the Darach.

Slashing and stabbing, the three wolves corralled the woman, who was fuming more and more with each passing second; circling her and taking turns to swipe. Although the cuts healed, the relentless efforts kept Ms. Blake momentarily at bay, trapped within the circle.

Allison joined the fray, sending another arrow at the woman and catching her in the shoulder, causing a stumble, then a fall. Derek, no longer an alpha but still formidable in wolf form, towered over her, claws outstretched and ready to make the final bow.

For a shining second, there was hope.

* * *

Of course, hope is usually very short lived, and only serves to make the inevitable crumbling of plans and downfall more crushing. Such as when Ducalion entered the clearing, tailed by the alpha pack, right on cue.

Scott was there, and saw in clarity the scene – his mother tied to a tree, Derek about to kill Jennifer, Lydia's terrified face as she clutched her throat. He made to move forward, but Ducalion held up a single finger to stop him; the distraction enough, Jennifer took advantage and knocked Derek away, getting to her feet to face the pack. Without meaning to, they had gathered together, all the wolves backing away until they all stood in line – both packs against her. Allison and her father still stood in front of the trees, not daring to make a move to free the others; Stiles and Lydia huddled to the right of the tree stump in the centre, and Jennifer, confident smile at the ready, stood before the source of her power.

_Here_, she thought, _I cannot be defeated_.

"You always liked to make an entrance, Ducalion" she remarked coldly, pacing before them. Her wounds were healing quickly – soon any won advantage would be gone. The lead alpha smiled wanly in return. The rest of the wolves bristled, changed and eager to take her down, but Ducalion seemed too calm. "You can't beat me," Ms. Blake continued, but her eyes betrayed her true emotions, uncertainty, "I have everything I need for the sacrifices, then you stand no chance against me."

"They are still alive," Ducalion nodded to the strung up parents, "You're not invincible yet." He paused, before continuing threateningly, "Tell me Jennifer – are you afraid?"

"Never"

Suddenly, the ropes at the trees sprang to life. They wrapped around the parents throats and began squeezing, the strangulation beginning. "Mom!" cried Scott, starting to run across the clearing, but Jennifer held up a cruel hand.

"Now, now, as long as none of you move – they'll live" she said, and to prove a point, the ropes stopped squeezing Melissa and the Sheriff's throats, and they gasped for air. Scott paused before her. "Good, now no one moves and I promise they can walk away" she said.

"Liar," Scott spat, "you still need them for sacrifices" His fists were clenched at his sides.

Jennifer shook her head almost sadly, "No, I never did."

"What do you mean?"

"I took them to get you all here, but they are not my sacrifice. But they do stand among us"

"Who?" Derek growled, tired of her games. He'd been played, and wanted to tear up the board. Or her face. Whichever was easiest.

A smile more sinister than any yet flashed across the Darach's face; finally stopping pacing, she stood to face them directly. "The final sacrifice – Guardians, yes? No. It was the centre knot – it had to be _every_ one of the others to work. Virgin. Warrior. Healer. Philosopher. Guardian. The five-fold sacrifice. Who do we know that ticks every box?" she finished with a grin, knowing none of them, least of all her target, would guess.

It was very much surprising to her when Scott's eyes narrowed, then focused on someone behind her. He'd got it. "Stiles," he breathed, and then looked up, "Stiles, Run!"

The pale boy behind her grew even paler then, in shock and fear, as Jennifer Blake turned to face him. "M- me?" he choked out.

"Who else?" teased Ms. Blake.

"Listen, I'm just a pathetic human – _so_ not worth killing" Stiles backpedalled, desperately searching for words that usually came easily to him.

"I think not"

"Listen, Lady, I don't know _what's_ in that ash you've obviously been sniffing – but I'm no warrior, or healer – just puny boy and a thin layer of sarcasm over here" he grinned nervously.

But the Darach wasn't buying it, her smile only deepening to a cold smirk as she advanced on the shaking boy. He started, but his legs were frozen, even the pack stared in shock. But Scott had lost too much; he wouldn't lose his best friend too.

* * *

With a roar of anger, Scott charged the figure before him, not caring if it meant losing his opportunity to become a true alpha. He'd take the shot if he had it. None of the other stuff mattered, as long as his friends were safe.

Hitting her with everything he had left, Scott slashed blindly, cutting her across the collar bone, and Jennifer turned back to him with a shriek of anger. He slashed again. And again. But with all the Nemeton's power, Ms. Blake – the Darach, was just too strong. She slammed a hand into his chest, eyes white and glowing, and he was thrown back. Wind knocked out of him, he lay in the dirt as Jennifer made to hit him again: this time with a wickedly curved knife in her grasp. The pack's reacted, running to help, but a stomp from the Darach sent them all flying, landing around the clearing. Dazed. Helpless. They could only watch.

"Scott McCall, you should have stayed at school" sneered Ms. Blake, leaning over him. Bones were shattered, he knew it – he couldn't move. He would die here. Angling his head to see his mother, who was still tied up with tears on her cheeks, he waited for the blow.

"NO!" came a scream from behind the Darach, and it's source was Stiles, who had pushed Lydia aside – out of harms reach – and now stood atop the tree stump screaming at Ms. Blake. "Leave him – it's me you want! Come on, you ugly bitch – come and get me! Or are you afraid – _Julia – a scared little girl even after all this time_" Stiles didn't care anymore, he wasn't about to watch Scott die. He held his arms open, pounding his chest, while ignoring his best friends violently shaking head, and roared, "_COME ON!_"

The Darach obliged.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as she advanced on the other boy, who did not back down or run, but stood his ground – a man. Some of the wolves were on their feet, crashing towards them but too far, too late. Peter let out a roar as his lungs burnt, trying to reach them in time. Chris argent let loose a shot from his gun, whizzing past Ms. Blakes head. Kali's feet skidded on the soil as she sped forwards. Ducalion threw the spear of a seeing stick towards the Darach. Derek was just getting to his feet, blood trickling down his face, when he saw the commotion unfolding and fear pricked behind dead eyes. Scott, healing in seconds, could do nothing but watch as they were all too late.

The Darach plunged the knife into Stile's stomach, the sound loud even among the tumult. His eyes bulged as the blade went in, panic setting in for a second. Then it was done, and chaos ripped through the clearing.

* * *

The Sheriff's cries were the worst thing. Above all the fighting they could be heard, raw and broken – screaming for his son. They had all paused a second when the blade went in: pulled short in their running, physically halted by the reality of what had just happened. Then Jennifer turned round, and she was actually _smiling _victoriously; all hell broke loose.

Stiles was still standing, one hand clamped around the wound spilling blood onto his shirt, but that didn't worry Jennifer. He wouldn't last long, and then she would be unstoppable. Wolves charged her from the left, but she dispelled them with a flick of her wrist, sending them flying. Isaac was among them, disbelieving that a friend had just died in front of him. Yes, _a friend_. He wished he'd have told the annoying, hyperactive kid that.

Derek, emotional and reckless, came from the other side, but she simply grasped him by the front of the shirt and threw him over her head like it was nothing. They weren't her targets – Ducalion was.

But still, the so called 'demon wolf' seemed undeterred by the events, calmly watching her tear thrown the packs as she approached. An odd smile played on his lips.

Glancing up at the darkening sky above, she grinned at Ducalion, "pretty close to the lunar eclipse." He said nothing, so she continued. "Are you ready to die, Ducalion?"

"Are you?"

Infuriated by his words, and apathy, she let rage resign in her – therefore not noticing her powers draining from her. Her target in sight, she reached out a hand, eyes glowing fiercely – but when she slammed it into his chest, the fire in her eyes dampened as nothing happened. "What?" she gasped, looking down at her hands. She tried again, to no avail. Ducalion simply smiled at someone behind her, actual awe written across his face. "What's wrong?"

"The sacrifices – they're – they're fading" she stammered.

A laughed sounded across the clearing, wet and wracking, but a laugh. Wheeling to face it, Ms. Blake saw Stiles still standing on the stump, holding in his guts with a manic smile plastered across his face, teeth stained with blood. Although the effort of merely laughing seemed like it in itself would kill him, he kept on, determined Plan B was the only option.

"What did you do, _boy_?" raged Ms. Blake, starting back towards him and halting halfway there. He still smiled.

"Mistletoe" he held up a clear jar of the stuff, pulled from his pocket, for them all to see, "I've been drinking a little every day for weeks – just enough to infuse it into my bloodstream." When none of them linked it, he rolled his eyes, an action so painfully familiar that for a second he could forget that he was dying. "How do you break a chain of power?" he asked simply, staring at his own blood at his feet, coating the Nemeton's stump, "Poison it at its source."

"No!" shrieked the Darach, but she could feel the changes happening already. As the Nemeton became drenched in the boy's blood, she could feel the effects weakening, as the benefits from every sacrifice left her. She screamed again, as she felt old scars from the first attack forging their way back onto her face, distorting it.

"You see, you made one mistake – you underestimated humanity." Stiles went on, and no one moved, transfixed by his words, "all the killing: it changed you. You're not human anymore, Ms. Blake – you're no better than them" he nodded at the alpha pack, "vengeance isn't what sacrifice means."

"What would you know? All my work, I could have stopped them! I could have done it!" Screamed the flailing lady as agony, fists clenched tight with all her anger pent up for years directed at one boy.

"Sacrifice," Stiles Stilinski went on, as if she hadn't interrupted, a calm now descended over him that made him seem a little taller in the knowledge that this was his choice, "is giving up something," he looked down at his leaking wound, and the crimson on his shirt, "for something you love more."

He looked only at his dad then. His voice lacked its usual snark and bite, replaced by something more genuine; an affection that softened his words. For a moment, he was just a terrified boy again, thinking his dad was worth the world.

"Touching," snarled the Darach. She knew she had lost. "But you'll still die."

"That's the point. I had a Plan B this time. I make that point one to Stiles, nil to psychotic murdering _monsters_" He even threw a grin and wink towards Scott, laughing in the face of death although he could feel the edges of his vision starting to go black. He would die, yes, but he would die victorious, and for people who deserved a change - and laughing.

* * *

Jennifer Blake had heard enough. With a final scream, she charged towards the bleeding boy, taking him down with her. The ground broke under their weight, and they crashed into the cellar at the roots of the Nemeton. Getting to her feet, she rushed at him again, fingernails splayed like claws, but he stepped out of the way, grabbing her shoulders to spin her around, and shoved. Then _Ram-_

The Darach fell backwards, onto a sharp out-turned root, which pierced her chest. Eyes wide and breath ragged, she looked down at the tree then back up at Stiles.

Once upon a time, he would have felt _something, _but now he felt nothing. "You should never have gone after my father" he told her coldly.

Outside, Scott had raced towards the cellar doors throwing them open to see Ms. Blake impaled, and Stiles standing before he, talking lowly and darkly. Words that sounded bitter in his mouth, Stiles, frankly just tired by this point, placed a sympathetic hand on the woman's shoulder as she died. After all, it was Stiles. But he also asked one more question, an echo of Ducalion's earlier words. "Julia, are you afraid?"

The English teacher nodded once, completely honestly to him, before she slumped, held up by the tree. Scott, at the top of the stairs, listened. There was one less heartbeat in the room. The Darach died where she should have all those years ago by Kali's hand, on the roots of the Nemeton that gave her life.

* * *

Afterwards, Stiles fell, clutching at his side, to the floor. Sitting against a root, he breathed. It was done. They were safe. Plan B had worked, which was unfortunate for his health, but good for theirs. That's all that counted. Guess he wasn't useless after all.

Scott raced down the stairs at this, shocked out of his trance, and fell to his knees at his friend's side, grabbing his shoulder in one hand. "Stiles, Stiles! Listen to me," Scott pleaded, and his friend's gaze, now hazy, met his own. Stiles managed a watery smile.

"My dad" he choked out, and Allison, who had ran in behind Scott, rushed off to untie the Sheriff. But the boy's eyes met – they both knew they wouldn't get there in time. Scott knew he was crying. He could feel the burn in his eyes and the wetness on his face, but he didn't care. He grabbed his friend's hand in his own and started pulling out the pain, his veins black with blood and mistletoe.

He couldn't feel the pain, even as he reached the limit of what he could relieve from his friend. All he could think of was all the things he wanted to say, but the words caught like hooks in his throat, and could not pass his lips. _I'm sorry I dragged you into this. Just hold on. You saved them. Please don't leave me, brother. __**Thank you.**_

But, as it turned out, he never had to say it. Stiles pulled his hand away, knowing Scott would only injure himself, and his eyes said everything. _He knew. _"It's okay, Scott. It's okay."

"My dad," Stiles started again, although his vision was swimming and he could feel the pain starting to subside, "tell him, tell him-"

But Stiles never got to finish the sentence; it died on his lips as his whiskey eyes glazed over and saw no more, head tilting gently to one side. He was gone.


	2. the rise

**A/N: Part 2! yay! part 2! like I said, I only split it for length reasons, but I hope you like it anyways. **

* * *

**Part 2: **'Another must rise'

Scott's howl of emotion and rage and sorrow drowned out even Lydia's banshee wail outside, filling the ears of everything for miles and sending the word out to the packs outside: Stiles was dead.

Mixed reactions ripped across the crowd. The Sheriff, who was running beside Allison, paused before racing at double speed towards the cellar.

Allison stopped dead, a hand covering her mouth quickly as the tears threatening to spill over did. Like a guardian angel, Isaac appeared at just the right time, grabbing her elbow to stop her from falling and tugging her into a hug. She cried openly into his chest as his eyes fixated on Stiles' blood on the tree stump, numbness spreading through him.

Melissa McCall completely broke down as Mr. Argent unbound her, having lost a son as much as the Sheriff. The hunter felt strange: he'd overlooked the kid completely, yet it was his brave acts which had saved them. Guilt. That was the feeling in his gut. He comforted Melissa as much as he could, but she was inconsolable, making her way towards the shrieking Lydia martin. The girl, unlike the rest of them, had no one to turn to, so at Mrs. McCall's touch she snapped out of her scream, and the women collapsed together.

Peter was shaking his head, a hand on Derek's shoulder. It was a shame – they'd lost one of their most useful allies. Cursing his decision to not turn the kid long ago, Peter sighed deeply. He'd been fond of the jumpy little human. Derek's face was shattered, shoulder's tense under Peter's hand. Ashen, he looked lost, like he was drowning and had just lost hold of a lifeline.

Even the twins looked mournful, but sternly forced back emotions, looking to Ducalion for orders. The lead alpha looked . . . awed, if it were possible. Admiration rested in his gaze at least. As soon as it appeared, the look was replaced by coldness as he looked at the sky above him, which had turned to black. The lunar eclipse had begun – they were all powerless. Not that it mattered, now Blake couldn't manipulate this weakness. Or so Ducalion thought, as he calmly collected his stick and began to leave.

"_You_" snarled Derek behind him, "You knew this was going to happen!" He threw himself at Ducalion.

Clawless though he was at the moment, that didn't mean Derek wasn't deadly. The fight flared quickly, and soon the two packs had left their solitude in favour of a good old human fistfight. Derek pounded Kali and Ducalion, while Peter and Isaac tried to reason with the twins. They were all so guilty and broken and _angry_ that a spark was bound to set a forest fire, leading to a full scale brawl. A release of emotions that could very well resort in all of their deaths.

Ducalion, fuming, impaled Derek on his stick, and the ex-alpha screamed in rage. Despite the wolf being temporarily gone, that sound was as close to a wounded animal as a human could get.

* * *

Below the action, in that lonely root cellar, Scott watched as the Sheriff clung to his son's lifeless body, grief and unspeakable despair clouding the room. It was the most heartbreaking thing Scott had ever seen; he was too young to feel this old.

When the noises of the fight reached them, he was initially angry. _How could they fight at a time like this?_ Then Scott thought, and thought some more, rocking back onto his heels beside the Sheriff. "This is all Ducalion's fault" he said aloud, softly. If that man, that evil shell of a man, hadn't started killing in the first place, Jennifer wouldn't have turned out the way she did. If it wasn't for his lust for an 'ideal pack', Scott and his friends would never have been involved in this mess. If it wasn't for Ducalion, whose name was cloaked in blood, he wouldn't be sitting besides his best friend's body.

Slowly, Scott McCall got to his feet and made his way up the steps of the root cellar. "I'm going to finish this" he said before he left, though he wasn't sure who too.

* * *

Scott's fist deftly connected with the alpha's jaw, sending it backwards. Just the maliciousness he radiated when walking forwards had been enough for Ethan and Aidan to stand aside, but Kali had moved to protect Ducalion. Now, she lay unconscious at his feet.

"Have you come to kill me, Scott?" Ducalion asked, ever calm. "You'll never become a true alpha"

"I don't care, don't you see? Power doesn't matter" Scott punched the older man in the gut, "Family matters. _Friends_ matter." Another two blows for each example were delivered. "I spent a lot of time running away from you, but I don't need to anymore," a kick, "I'm not scared of you, not like Ms. Blake, _I feel sorry for you." _

Ducalion was on his knees now, his face bleeding. His expression however, changed at Scott's words, "What?"

"You have no one. For all your power, and your alpha's, you don't have anybody. Even your pack stepped aside now, deserting you. Because you're poison, Ducalion – and I pity you." Scott kicked him in the jaw, and the alpha fell backwards, hitting the dirt. He wasn't going to kill him – it wasn't worth it. He'd seen enough death tonight. "Come with us" he ordered the twins as he passed them, and they obeyed his instructions. In fact, most of the remaining people made to follow him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world – except Derek, who still looked as if kicking ten types of crap out of the alpha would bring him immense pleasure.

Scott placed a hand on his arm, and Derek looked up. "Leave him," Scott said softly, "even when the eclipse is over – they're all gone, he's just another Omega. Alone. You don't have to be." Derek looked as if he might hug the younger boy then, but simply nodded and followed.

Scott moved over to walk beside his mother, who clutched onto him like a crutch and wiped the tears off his face, "I'm so sorry, honey." He shook her off, glad she was still breathing. He'd been so scared at the thought of her in the hands of the Darach. To feel her warmth under his fingers, beside him, he could almost cry with relief.

He noticed Allison sticking close to her father, too, and shared a quiet look with her. They were okay. There would be plenty of time to talk later.

Just as it seemed it was over, a voice spoke from behind them, haughty and cruel. "I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this" Ducalion said.

* * *

Around them, the twins fell to their knees, grabbing at their throats like they couldn't breathe, and Kali started twitching on the ground. As they did, Ducalion got to his feet – and healed himself, the lacerations on his face sealing before their eyes. His, incidentally, were glowing blood red.

"What did you do?" Scott roared, gazing heavenwards. The eclipse was still blocking out the moon – this wasn't possible.

"I warned you: I am the demon wolf. It's got to have its benefits"

The Twins were dying, and so was Kali by the look of it. Ducalion, it seemed, was draining all of them to fuel his transformation. Scott crouched next to Ethan, holding him up, but there was nothing he could do. "Stop this!" he yelled at the alpha, who laughed in response.

"You should have joined me when you had the chance, it's too late now"

"They're your own pack – you're killing them!" Scott argued.

"And as you pointed out, they all just deserted me." Ducalion said, seeming to grow in height as time went by, "Now none of you will be leaving."

Chris argent, recovering quickly, unloaded a casing of bullets towards the wolf – and they hit, drawing blood. Ducalion wasn't invincible, then. With a howl the alpha attacked, sending a huge claw towards the hunter which knocked him into the trees. "Dad!" Allison screeched, running in that direction, but Ducalion cornered her, not even flinching at the exploding arrow she sent its way. He was about to hit her when Scott intervened, throwing his entire body in a football-like tackle. Thrown off balance, the wolf stumbled more into the clearing, and Allison was able to get away, followed closely by Mrs. McCall.

His human body was nothing compared to the alpha, but still Scott stared him down defiantly, setting his jaw. He'd lost so much today. No more.

"Enough" he roared, "That's enough, Ducalion."

"Says who?" Ducalion swept him off his feet, and Scott landed a few metres away, bleeding with a few broken bones. Only now, in the darkness, he could feel them and they weren't healing.

"Says me" Derek attacked him from the other side, reining a hard blow to the alpha's cranium before he too was knocked down. From his position on the floor, Derek could see the moon clearly – specifically the edge of light peeking from under the shadow. It was ending.

* * *

They had to keep him busy until the moon's power returned. Four guys against one, it should have been easy. Factor in that the one guy is a werewolf on super-steroids and extremely pissed off – not so much.

Taking it in turns to charge and attack, the four men managed to hold out a little longer than any of them thought, but they were looking a little worse off than before. Scott was sure at least three fingers were broken, and from the fact that he was struggling to breathe, he guessed a couple of ribs were too. Isaac had been caught across the back of the head and was out of action, bleeding out on the floor. They couldn't help him yet. They needed something else- just a little more bought time.

Their salvation revealed itself in a storm of bullets. "That's – for – my – son – you – bastard!" The Sheriff, battered badge Stiles had been carrying clenched in his fist, punctuated each word with a bullet. Each one met its mark, and Ducalion stumbled about, reeling and definitely injured. Out of shells, the Sheriff looked at Scott – passing over the baton. Their turn.

Just as it was starting to feel helpless, Derek checked as the alpha turned its back – and claws emerged from his skin. Looking up, the eclipse was half gone, meaning they stood half a chance again. He caught Scott's eye and nodded. It was now or never.

Together, they ran at the demon wolf, Scott distracting it at the front while Derek attacked from behind. They had no plan; not much chance, but they had to do something. Better or worse, it was ending here.

Scott landed a solid punch to Ducalion's face, but he was no killer. He still had a choice. Derek, however, had reached the end of his tether. As Scott hit, he sank his claws into Ducalion's back, through the ribcage. Hand stabbing the alpha in the back, he let back his head and howled before twisting the hand to finish it. Scott looked terrified, watching Ducalion's face as he realized what had happened; seeing the budge of his eyes as Derek twisted. He had lost, and the alpha knew it was over. He was dying by Derek's hand. But despite everything, there was only one thing Scott could think to do.

He reached out for Ducalion's shoulder, and in the man's last few seconds, Scott began drawing away the pain.

This time, he could feel it, and flinched at the sight of his dark veins, but kept going. For some reason, as Ducalion stood before him, Scott McCall knew it was the right thing to do. It was in his nature.

For his part, this action seemed to scare Ducalion more than the idea of dying, for his eyes widened in shock just before they glassed over. As they did, Scott felt a sudden pain in his heart, and stumbled back, crying out. "Scott" he could hear his name being shouted by Derek, but it felt far away. The Sheriff was beside him, taking his arm as he screamed, then as suddenly as it was over – the pain stopped.

On instinct, he threw back his head and let out an almighty roar – louder and more powerful than ever before. The alpha pack, recovered from Ducalions abuse, were getting to their feet, and everyone in the clearing was staring at Scott in mixture of awe and horror. His eyes were Red.

He was the alpha, a true alpha. Because you see, the true status of 'true alpha' was not won by bloodshed or dominance, but will. By a simple act of kindness – like taking away an enemies pain in their dying breaths – that proves they have the good intentions and pure heart to lead. He had earned the searing red flashing through his eyes, and lived up to the potential he was worthy of. As if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he felt free from the stresses of the last few months. The Darach and Ducalion were gone. He finally had some control over the werewolf within him, and now had a responsibly to the pack – his pack – to carry on to something better. Something good, after going through Hell.

* * *

A few minutes passed in silence, as the argents and Ms. McCall emerged from the woods to the destruction, and Scott's red eyes. Usually, it faded after a moment, but his stayed the burning colour for minutes before returning to their usual soft hue. There was silence.

"Let's go home," Scott said, surveying their shattered and bruised faces, as Peter helped a woozy Isaac to his feet, and the alpha pack watched him warily. Too much had happened that day. On their faces he could see it: joy at families being reunited, relief at being alive – then sad glances towards the cellar, and guilt for breathing, too.

The Sheriff made as to go collect his son's body, but Derek stopped him. "Sir, it would be my absolute honour" he said quietly. After a moment, the Sheriff nodded. They all knew that if he'd have tried to carry his son's body, he would have broken down before they could get far. Derek doing it was easier, and his way to pay back the kid for never telling him that he was as much a part of his pack as any of the wolves. Now Stiles would never know.

"He's gone," Derek's hoarse voice from the cellar stopped them all.

"What?" asked Scott.

"Stiles – he's gone, he's not here!" Derek called back. Panic flitted across the Sheriff's face as he tore towards the steps, everyone else on his heels, and jumped into the darkness below. Derek was right. There was Jennifer on the tree's roots, and a patch of blood stained floorboards where Stiles had died – as each person's eyes crossed that place they shuddered, each filling in the gap of his final moments there – but no Stiles. They searched the entire root cellar, but his body had vanished.

"Where's he gone?" ranted the Sheriff, "he's already died at the hands of that sick beast – at least his body could be at rest. Where the hell is it?"

"Exactly where it should be" A new voice spoke from the top of the steps, and they all turned to see Deaton standing there, looking down at them all with a calmness none of them could muster.

"Deaton? What do you mean?" Scott demanded, then his brow furrowed, "Wait – you gave him the mistletoe, didn't you? You knew his plan?" the new alpha was getting angry, eyes reddening with both tears and power.

"He asked me for it, yes"

"Why did you give it to him? You knew he'd die!" Scott yelled.

"He wanted to have a plan B" Deaton said simply, "he thought it was worth it."

"Not if it meant him dying!" screamed Scott, and Derek placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him back, he finished coldly, "nothing was worth that."

"I think you should see this" without another word, Deaton turned on heel and disappeared, so they had no choice but to follow him, Melissa McCall steadying a distraught Sheriff. Once out into the clearing, Deaton simply pointed towards the Nemeton's stump.

In the moonlight, it appeared to be glowing.

"What Stiles did tonight was a true sacrifice," Deaton said softly; quiet enough so he didn't sound threatening, but loud enough that they could all hear. In his head, Scott thought of 'true alpha' when Deaton said the other name, and in his mind they linked together. "Jennifer was wrong: what she was doing was not sacrifice, it was just slaughter. Sacrifice has to have _meaning_ – Stiles gave himself willingly for his father, and for Scott, and for all of you – that is a true selfless act."

"Jennifer's ways had corrupted the power here long ago, but it all burned away with her. It was replaced by the one good act, and the power turned again. But that power," a smile played on the vet's lips now, "it has been saved and restored before. It can do it again."

"Does that mean-?" Scott interrupted disbelievingly, looking at his boss but not daring to get his hopes up just yet. Deaton nodded honestly in return, and Scott felt his heart race. Keeping his eyes transfixed on the stump, he witness what could only be described by human standards as a miracle.

The tree stump glowed brighter for a second, and in a blink, and outline was forming there. It strengthened in the moonlight until a pale figure was standing atop the tree, eyes shut and ghostlike. "Stiles" the Sheriff made to approach his son, but Deaton held out an arm.

"Coming back from the dead can be a bit of a shock, give him a moment" he advised sagely.

The Sheriff complied, watching as his son stood bathed in light, before his eyes flicked open. Like Jennifer's had, they glowed silver for a second before muting to their usual amber, emotionless. Then, they focused, blinking rapidly as he took them all in. "Am I dead?" he asked, "Is this Heaven?"

The Sheriff did not need direction this time, striding forwards and embracing his son as he took a hesitant step off the stump. "So I'm not dead? Awesome" Stiles could be heard saying from his father's shoulder, the smile in his voice evident.

He had his dad back. He wasn't dead. Things had worked out pretty well, considering.

"I'm sorry" the Sheriff said, gripping his son tighter and trying to remember everything about him. He'd lost his wife, and for a moment today he'd lost his son – he never wanted to be in that place again.

"Dad, what for? You've got nothing to be sorry for"

"Don't say that," the Sheriff leaned back, holding the boy's shoulder firmly, "I should have believed you"

"No," Stiles shook his head, "that's not your fault. If things were different, I wouldn't have believed it – I'm just glad you never carted me off to the nut house" He grinned, and the Sheriff realized that was what he would have missed the most about his son. He tried to smile back, but found it hard to breathe.

Behind the Sheriff, Scott detached himself from the crowd and started hesitantly forwards, not wanting to ruin the moment. As soon as he saw his best friend, Stiles leaned away, and the Sheriff stepped back to give them a moment. Scott rushed forwards now, and in an unconventional display of affection between them, the two boys hugged fiercely.

Scott, between embracing his friend and knowing he was real and listening to Stiles heartbeat to check, managed to choke out "don't ever do that again."

Stiles laughed against him, "no choice, wolf boy. Plan B was better than Plan D for 'Everybody's Dead'"

"You dumbass"

"Shut up" the paler boy grinned. In the crowd behind them, there were only a few dry eyes.

"If you ever do that again, I'm coming with you" Scott said more seriously, releasing his friend to catch his eye. Solemnly, Stiles nodded back.

"I'm not leaving again. Promise"

* * *

After that, everybody rushed forward to clap the dead man walking on the back. Lydia and Allison both hugged him, one in each arm, and he smiled broadly at them. "Two pretty girls crying over me – never thought I'd see the day" he joked. Peter shook his hand, as did Mr. Argent, but both Derek and Ms. McCall demanded hugs, the first of which surprised most, but the latter was like a mother and a son. They were a family; a pack – it was that simple.

"So, do I get like cool druid powers now?" Stiles asked Deaton eventually as he came to a stop before him.

"Yes," Deaton answered, but with an edge to his voice, "but this power isn't like an emissaries – it's older, more corruptible." He didn't directly say it, but Stiles understood just the same.

"'Absolute power corrupts absolutely', right? I don't want to end up like Ms. Blake." He nodded to the stump, "This thing, it's still dangerous right? It could still give power to less cuddly things than me?" Deaton nodded in answer. "Okay," Stiles said, "Let's do this." Stiles faced the tree stump and cracked his knuckles.

"What are you doing?" Allison asked.

He shushed her, putting a finger to his lips, "You're interrupting my Zen."

Allison scoffed at that. But then he closed his eyes, concentrating hard, like with the mountain ash. He just had to believe, right? He'd show them faith.

They all waited with baited breath as he stood. When his eyes opened again, they were silver, glowing like orbed moons. Suddenly, he dropped towards the ground. They thought he had collapsed, but he stopped at a crouch, deliberately slamming his fist into the ground at his feet. The dirt puffed up in a small cloud around them, as the earth cracked from the point of impact – a line carved right through the tree stump. The Nemeton was cracked.

The light faded, his eyes dark once more, and he asked "is it gone?"

Deaton nodded, "Without its power, you know you're on your own now – just a human again."

Stiles got to his feet and brushed the dirt off his hands before he met his friends expectant eyes, "that's not too bad," he said, "especially when you've got an entire werewolf pack that owes you one."

That made them all groan, and him grin. Just as it should be.


End file.
